Revelations
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: Mac lets on a bit more about his past to Claire and Stella than he meant.


**Revelations**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

"One of the first movies I had seen was 'The Day the Earth Stood Still'," Claire told Stella, looking toward the ceiling as she tried to remember it. A glass of wine in her hand tipped dangerously. "It came out about five years before I was born, but my parents got it on video. They kicked me out of the room during the beginning scene because I was only… oh, must have been five or six, I think."

Stella grinned. "I only saw that one when I was twenty, I think. Apparently none of the Sisters thought it was proper to show to children."

Mac watched the conversation from the opposite chair, listening to the two women sharing numerous memories from their childhoods. He felt glad that Stella and Claire managed to get along so well since the first week they met. The only downside to his wife and coworker liking each other was having to listen to their nostalgic talking, though he found it amusing at times.

Claire frowned at Stella. "It's a good movie. Pity you didn't get to see it earlier. It's one of those movies that taints just a little with age, you know what I mean? Like the original zombie movies - they aren't scary anymore."

Stella nodded. "Of course, some of the new horror movies aren't that scary, either."

Claire grinned. "Did you see that ice cream man movie a while ago? Bad enough to be scary."

"I hadn't seen it. That's the one with the fake body parts, right?"

"Oh, I bet they look twice as fake to you," Claire answered, taking a sip from her glass. "You get to see the real things."

Stella's nose crinkled slightly. "At least you can't smell them through the television!"

They both laughed for a minute, and Mac tried to laugh along with them, though his mind was set on the window. A bird sat outside in the tree, and the repetitive conversation let him find it more interesting.

"Your turn, Mac," Stella said, and Mac snapped out of his thoughts, giving her a questioning look. "We've been talking for at least an hour. You haven't said a word. Tell us something about your childhood."

Mac considered this for a moment. He didn't like talking about his past much, and even Claire only knew chopped up pieces of it. However, if he concentrated on the wine bottle on the table in front of him, he could remind himself that the two women had to be close to drunk.

"Tell us every last detail." Stella looked at him eagerly. "How'd little Mac end up in the Marines and with the police department?" When Mac didn't say anything, she turned to Claire. "What do you know?"

She shook her head, taking another sip.

"I don't have any good stories," he told them. "You're the story mines."

Claire leaned forward with Stella. "C'mon, Mac. You owe us some talking!"

He sighed and looked at them closely. "How drunk are you two?"

"Very," Claire replied as Stella nodded. "I feel drunk. I don't think we should have opened that second bottle of wine."

"I told you not to," Mac answered.

"You're avoiding the subject," Stella told him, putting down her glass. "Give us juicy details."

"I don't give 'juicy details'," Mac told her, smiling. At her look, he added, "Alright, brief overview of my life. I was born, I went to school, I joined the Marines, I went to college, and I'm here."

Claire laughed. Stella just raised her eyebrows.

"Alright," he snapped, looking a bit annoyed. "My mother died when I was thirteen. Claire, that woman you met at our wedding was my stepmother. My father went on to date another woman a bit too soon for my tastes, and even though I obviously showed him how much I disliked her, he continued to tell me that I was his favorite son. He even ignored the fact that I was his _only_ son, too, and that it would have been more effective to say I was his favorite _person_, so tried to win back my approval of him with money. He tried to pay me through college, but I couldn't handle anything from him at that point. I may have joined the Marines to serve my country, but making him angry was the added deal." Mac glared them down, more annoyed with himself than the two. "Are you going to remember that in the morning?"

Claire stared at him, a sad look in her eyes, and Stella frowned. They didn't say anything. Claire started to play with the hem of her shirt. "I hope not," Stella finally said. "That's depressing."

Mac looked back out the window to see that the bird was gone. "Living through it wasn't quite as bad as I imagined it would be, but I'm still having a bit of trouble talking to either of them. Not that I ever spoke to my stepmother after I turned fourteen."

He noticed that Claire's eyes looked a bit watery, though he couldn't tell whether it was from being drunk or his story. "I never knew your mother died," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," Mac answered. "Now, if neither of you are sober enough to dwell on the subject anymore, I'm going to go to sleep. Goodnight." He got out of his chair and left the room quietly, barely noticing the women picking up their conversation a few minutes later. He laid in the bed, still dressed down to his shoes and on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling.


End file.
